


do you skate me for a fool?

by blackbluewoo



Category: A.C.E (Beat Interactive Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Not K-Pop Idols, Dramatic Love Confessions, I'm Not An Ice Skater So Plz Forgive Me, Ice Skating, Love Triangles, M/M, One-Sided Relationship, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Unrequited Love, Very sweet but still with some plot and #sadness, minor wowkwan bc its always like dat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:15:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22203208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackbluewoo/pseuds/blackbluewoo
Summary: “Do you miss figure skating?” Junhee asks, sudden.Oh. Not exactly what Donghun expected.“Yeah.”“Wasn’t it… hard?”Donghun smiles at Junhee fondly then, at his slightly parted lips and keen expression.“It was really hard. But, it felt like- like flying. When you learn the routine, after so many days and nights of practice, and you can just- focus. Entirely on skating, on the feeling of moving through the air without thinking. It was, freeing.”Junhee bites his lip, holding back a small smile.“You make it sound so romantic.”--In which Donghun is a flopped figure skating champion and Junhee is just trying to stay upright.
Relationships: Lee Donghun/Park Junhee | Jun
Comments: 9
Kudos: 94





	do you skate me for a fool?

**Author's Note:**

> hii everyone :D  
> it's been a while~  
> this was originally written for @xiigua's birthday a year ago... um... sept 2018 ... not 2019 ... don't ask, plz...  
> she is very busybusybusy with adult stuff and while i wanted her to be able to read this as soon as it was published we are both very different people now and i thought instead of letting this rot in my drafts, i'd gift it to you guys !! plz accept my offering of a very late xmas/early valentines present !! and tee if ur reading this i love u and this is still 4 u too <3<3  
> i hope u enjoy!!

_ 2nd May, 2011 _

_ The crowd is cheering for him, their cries loud and echoing in the rink. Judges sit, intimidating, behind a white-clothed table, their eyes piercing and expressions unforgiving. On the side of the rink sits a man with a twisted ankle- still in a silk shirt and skates, face similarly red to his outfit, also stained with tears. The judges don’t spare a glance. _

_ Donghun hears his name being announced over the tinny speakers, and he turns one final time to give a wave to his parents and brother in the crowd. Beside him, his coach is patting his shoulder, whispering words of advice and encouragement.  _ He can do this.

_ Yet, a hard ball of nerves begin to coil in his throat, blocking air from coming into his lungs.  _

_ As he circles the rink initially, he closes his eyes- breathing out thick from his nose and mouth in a rhythm- only coming to a pause when he’s counted sixteen beats. _

_ He crouches. _

_ In the crowd, his friends and family are still cheering. An official from the olympics training centre sits, careful and cold, clipboard resting on his lap. His face is pinched, tight, gives way to no emotion except for contempt. This is his only chance, to get  _ there-  _ fresh out of high school, years of training finally coming to fruition. _

_ Donghun feels his entire body shaking as he begins his routine. He’s practised this, day and night, the entire dance engraved into his mind and his muscles. Yet, it doesn’t get much easier to build momentum for his movements, his toe loop even landing shaky. Following his mistake, he hears a sharp sigh from his coach. _

_ “Come on, come on,” he mumbles to himself. _

_ Spin. Salchow. Easy. Easy. Everything is easy to follow on time. Just keep focused. _

_ He’s getting into a rhythm now. He can hear his coach let out a relieved breath as he lands his consecutive moves, offers a smile towards the audience with a gracious hand wave. _

_ Easy. Simple. A jump, now- axel. He can feel himself wobbling as the momentum mounts. _

_ “You’re doing so good!” His mother cheers from the crowd. _

_ The floor seems to give way beneath him. _

_ Donghun falls. _

_ “Donghun!” _

  
  
  
  


♢♢♢

For a minute, the entire world is blurry. The sheets feel heavy and warm around Donghun’s limbs, the pale light streams in through half drawn curtains, and as Donghun blinks sleep away from the tips of his eyelashes, he sees snowflakes begin to fall outside. They’re far away, pinpricks of white against the grey of the city. It comes every year, yet never fails to surprise him. 

The late November weather is never cold enough to keep, so he only wakes up every year to wet streets. 

He could go back to sleep again, ignore the dull and distant thrumming in his temples. It’s so tempting, just to turn his head, block out the light, forget- 

His phone, cold from residing on the floor overnight, begins to vibrate. 

Suddenly woken up, Donghun yells in despair, pulls his pillow over his head and waits for the ringing to die out.

One.  _ Buzz _ . Two.  _ Buzz _ . Three... 

_ Fuck this. _

He makes a desperate grab, smashing his hand along the floors in a futile attempt to feel for the rough shape of his phone. In the process of violently attacking the floor, he tumbles out of his bed, back hitting the floor with a sickening thump. He lays there for a few seconds, still, watching the print of the ceiling spin in his gaze.

Donghun groans, but through the pain the phone continues to buzz- loud and annoying against the floor so early in the morning. He reaches beneath his bed, unseeing, and once his hands manage to make contact, he pulls the phone towards him and brings it to his ear, managing to yelp lightly in response to the temperature.

“Fuck,” he groans into the phone, rolls over in dismay and touches his tailbone.

“You there, hyung?” A coy voice answers from the phone. “You sound like you hurt yourself. Maybe, like, I don’t know, fell out of bed?” 

“Shut up, asshole,” Donghun manages through gritted teeth, clenching his hands around the phone tighter. “What do you want from me?”

“Did you forget what you promised?” The voice comes again, sing song.

Donghun does, in fact, not remember what he promised, but at the sound of Byeongkwan’s raspy, out of tune voice he winces in fear. He  _ knows  _ he drank last night, he  _ knows  _ Byeongkwan holds his liquor better, and he most definitely knows that neither of them can be trusted when they’re drunk.

He sits up, and holds back a wince by biting his lip.  _ Fuck _ . Donghun half-wishes he just snapped his neck with the force of impact, but the other side of his mind is awake with curiosity. 

“What? Did I promise you my newborn? Are you here to claim my eyeballs for your love potion, you witch?” 

Byeongkwan just laughs on the other end, hearty and gracious. 

“Nope,” He replies. “You promised you’d come help with the ice-skating today.”

The mind has a funny way of going about things, because just as the words leave the younger man’s mouth Donghun finds himself closing his eyes in utter despair and memory, pressing his lips so tightly together he’s afraid they might burst. Of course. Of course last night’s wasted-Donghun had to offer to protect only mildly-tipsy Byeongkwan in a wild exclamation of comradeship. That type of thing just happened to drunk him, as much as vomiting in a dirty toilet stall in between drinks happened to other people.

“Byeongkwan,” He begins- gentle, kind. “ _ Baby _ .”

“You promised. You said if you backed out you’d pay for our lunch.”

“Can’t you just leave me and my 20,000won alone? Not even a millionaire could pay for you. ”

“Oh, I know. That’s why I made you promise.”

“Fucking asshole.” 

“I prefer  _ witch  _ to asshole, just so you know. Didn’t you call me baby a second ago, too?” 

Donghun makes sure to hold the microphone close to his lips as he lets out his loudest, most long-suffering sigh, excessively breathing into the microphone to emphasise his point. A silence follows, and Donghun half-thinks that he’s finally ushered away the burden on his existence.

“Hyung. You promised. It pays, too.” 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Donghun knows he could protest. 

He could pay for all of Byeongkwan’s unrestrained eating habits and copious amounts of alcohol instead of going to the centre of town and helping strangers skate. He didn’t need this. He could suffice even just hanging up on the younger man, blaming it on bad connection when they met next, conveniently holding a cup of Byeongkwan’s favourite coffee in his hand.

Yet, Donghun also knows he can’t bear to hear the inevitable disappointment dripping in Byeongkwan’s voice the next time they see each other. He would tell his boyfriend, and Yuchan, and his dog, and maybe even a couple of customers if he was feeling particularly betrayed. That was just how Byeongkwan was, more melodramatic than overemotional, more coyly vengeful than any sort of bitter.

It’s not like he can’t do it. He was a professional skater, _ for fucks sake _ . He can teach some five year olds how to skate.

“Okay. I’m coming. But I’m not happy about it.”

“This will be good for you, hyung!” Byeongkwan cheers, emphasising with a whoop. 

Donghun really hopes he’s not near any potential customers.

“There are some cute boys here, too,” he offers, greasy. “I know your priorities.”

“I hate you.”

♢

“My love!” Byeongkwan exclaims, gliding towards Donghun on the edge of the ring with open arms and an even broader smile. 

Donghun can see the children whispering, laughing at their short, pink haired instructor colliding with a man who looks like he’s just crawled out the depths of hell. He’s aware of the bags under his eyes, the puffiness of his face, but it’s another thing to have it rubbed right under him by multiple young children whose faces are coated in snot. A mother tilts her head curiously towards Donghun, and he only raises a hand in response.

He really hopes no-one recognises him here.

Byeongkwan pulls him away by his shoulders, smiles wide and happy. 

“How are you?”

The pity question. Byeongkwan is so see-through sometimes, but Donghun can’t even attempt to get angry at him.

“There’s been better days,” Donghun comments, standing still as Byeongkwan unwinds his arms from around him and steps onto the rubber mat near the entrance of the rink, resting on the edges of his blades. 

“I’ll get you some skates, hyung. Just sit down.”

Donghun stays standing, buries his hands into his hoodie pockets and leans against the worn wooden fence. It creaks beneath his weight, but he doesn’t move, only spares a glance around the indoor rink. He had only ever waited outside this place before, only to pick up Byeongkwan after shifts when Sehyoon was out of town (which was slowly ticking towards the more often than not side).

Yet, it was quite similar to what he expected, couples crowding over in corners, arms wrapped around each other, young children slipping, hands held by their parents. Early Christmas decorations adorned every corner of the place, marking it in fake capitalist-festive joy. Despite the children, the rink was still fairly empty- slow for a cold, grey Saturday morning.The snow from earlier had melted quicker than it could leave it’s mark, rendering the city in another glum winter.

The place Donghun had learnt to skate at was nothing if not the exact opposite of here. It was out, near his grandma’s home, where he had gone to his first ice rink- hand in hand with his brother- desperate to be able to move across the ice. It was outdoor, rounded off by glass fencing, showcasing a bright blue sky overhead. 

There had been no instructor, just his older cousin and a pair of keys, a set of brand new skates that he was begging to teach Donghun how to use. That reality, the feeling of blades crunching against ice, seems miles away from the semi-congested city centre and Byeongkwan in a boldly lettered ‘STAFF’ uniform.

“Excuse me?” 

Donghun looks up. The first thing he thinks is  _ oh, Byeongkwan was right.  _

He was right, because there’s a cute boy with a pretty smile and half closed eyes standing in front of him- clutching a desk provided pair of skates in between his index and middle finger, blades pressed against the palm of his hand. Cute boy stands tall, fingers delicately and not-so-wisely wrapped around the blade, easy smile stretched across his features. Donghun swears he could die and go to heaven right here.

Cute boy’s wearing a long coat, a turtleneck, jeans- he’s dressed up some kind of celebrity, or at least- too fancy for this rink. Donghun can’t deny that it makes him look good, but he’s more than a little confused as to why  _ this  _ man specifically ended up here, of all places, when Donghun knew for a fact there were rinks in the centre of the city that were more suited to his… taste. 

Cute boy tilts his head curiously at Donghun, and Donghun realises he’s forgotten to reply. 

“Ah, sorry- yes?” 

Cute boy -  _ god _ , Donghun needs to find out his name - giggles, and  _ oh, his laugh is cute too _ . Donghun finds himself smiling instinctively. 

“Well, I bought a lesson, a beginner’s one- I’ve never skated before and I, don’t know where to go?” 

He knows the man thinks he’s staff but he doesn’t care, not right now, because he  _ can _ help. He just- needs Byeongkwan. To tell him how to reply. Then maybe he could help the cute boy a little more. If he would-stay, and speak to Donghun. Even look at him in his old hoodie and mussed hair.

“I’m sorry, I-”

“Donghun! No flirting on the job, you have a class to teach,” Byeongkwan announces, arriving hastily back onto the scene with a flourish, pair of sparkly red skates in one hand, obnoxious smile written across his features.

“No, I-”

“Oh my god,” The man gasps, lifts his hand from beneath the skates to clap over his mouth. “Donghun? Like Lee Donghun? The figure skater? I  _ knew _ I recognised you from somewhere-”

“Yeah-”

“And you?” Byeongkwan interrupts. “Who are you?”

“Junhee! Park. Park Junhee. Most people call me Jun… oh my god,” He rambles, ending with wide eyes focused on Donghun.

In Donghun’s mind this day seemed to peak around a minute ago, and that peak quickly turned into a slippery downhill slope as soon as cute boy recognised him. Now, it feels as if everyone’s eyes are on him, mouths racing with a million different comments on his past. 

His bed doesn’t seem like too bad a place to be, right now.

Park Junhee is still looking at him, eyes slightly widened, mouth inching into the same catlike smile he was sporting only seconds ago. He hates how Junhee’s face lights up, because Donghun knows his memory in the public eye isn’t a positive one.

“Wait, Junhee? Like Yuchan’s… friend?” Byeongkwan hesitates, but he seems positive enough.

This can only get so much worse. 

“You know Yuchan?”

Donghun needs to get out of here.

“We went to university together.” 

There’s a fence he can jump, if he sprints fast enough.

“Oh! Byeong-Byeongkwan? Right? I thought I recognised you -- we’ve met. A couple years ago. Before I took the job abroad.” 

Should he excuse himself to the toilet?

“Yeah, I- didn’t think I would run into you here. How are you and Yuchan?” 

Pretending to die is too dramatic. Maybe he could just faint, instead.

“Oh, good! We were supposed to meet here, actually, but-” Junhee coughs nervously, and scratches at the back of his neck. “He bailed. He’s ill?”

Oh.

Everything begins to fall into place in Donghun’s mind, and he finds himself staring at Junhee- mouth slightly agape in shock. 

Yuchan told him, not so long ago, that his friend was coming back from Japan to meet him. Yuchan also told him, even more recently, that he had  _ feelings  _ for said friend.

“Yeah, he has a pretty bad fever. Sorry about your… date?” Byeongkwan says, even more awkwardly. The second hand embarrassment is practically stabbing Donghun in the chest at this point. 

“Oh, it’s fine- I was just telling Donghun…” Junhee spins on his heel, to face him with a smile. “That I was taking the lesson anyways. Don’t want to waste money, you know? I’ve always wanted to skate.”

“And now you have South Korea’s very own Lee Donghun to teach you,” Byeongkwan comments, snarky, pats a hand a little too tough on Donghun’s back to be entirely friendly.

Wait a second. 

If this were a movie, this would be where the record scratch came to play.

“I’m teaching an  _ entire _ beginner’s class?” 

“Only assisting. It’s only children and our friend Junhee, here, so you’ll be alright.” 

Junhee offers him another smile, the one he did before but more genuine, all his teeth out and exposed, eyes almost silently conveying a message of agony. Donghun feels somewhat comforted to know that Byeongkwan makes everyone feel the same uncomfortable emotions.

He takes to the ice quickly, to avoid anymore unnecessary and awkward eye contact with his best friend’s crush. It’s okay, Donghun only found him  _ mildly attractive _ , it’s hard to fall in love with someone within five minutes of meeting. Although, he supposes, he’d have to try and forget the awkward stuttering and blushy eye contact once Yuchan finally confessed his feelings to Junhee.

It had been a while since Donghun was on the ice, and the feeling of blades beneath his feet brought him a deep-rooted sense of comfort he hadn’t experienced since he left the rink ten years ago. 

The feeling would’ve been great, had the world not come crashing down around him and caused him an immediate landing on his backside, his mouth suddenly dry. 

It’s okay. People fall all the time. He just has to ignore the children’s eyes on him, just shuffle and push himself back up.

“Sir,” A voice comes, meek and shy.

Looking up, Donghun finds it belongs to a small boy. He didn’t know he was old enough at twenty-eight to be addressed as sir, but he wasn’t going to be picky about his quickly ticking clock.

“Yes?” Donghun says, or at least attempts to, through half a groan as he climbs onto his knees and straightens himself. 

“How are you going to teach us if you can’t skate?” 

The words are oddly hitting, coming from a boy of his age, and Donghun finds that he can only smile weakly and shrug in response. He doesn’t get much chance to mull over another response, not before the child’s mother pulls him away with a stern word, and Byeongkwan soon glides over to grab at Donghun’s elbow. 

The world moves too fast for him to keep up, and soon Donghun is facing a line of students, young girls and boys in mittens and scarves, coats drawn up around them. 

Obviously, though, the line ends in rather an obtrusive sense- Junhee standing there playing with his fingers, legs shaking on skates. Donghun gives him a boxy, encouraging smile, accentuating by a small thumbs up. Junhee only shakes his head in response, holding back a smirk.

He’s cute, and his ridiculous toothy grin only makes him blend into the scene of children.

“So, all of you have begun your adventure on the ice! Whoo!” Byeongkwan cheers, and claps like a seal. 

It’s entertaining to see him so animated, being that he once spent six hours on Donghun’s sofa, remains of popcorn lying on his chest.

Byeongkwan begins to instruct them, stomping to encourage them to maintain balance, precariously walking on his blades like he was going to fall over. With all his overexaggerated noises, he earns peals of laughter from the children watching, and even a chuckle from the hesitant Junhee in the corner. 

The first half an hour, maybe, of the lesson goes wonderfully- because it’s mainly Byeongkwan picking on specific children to start moving, and picking on Donghun to show them some cool spins. It’s not half as bad as he expected.

That is, until Junhee falls down. It’s normal, really, plenty people around the rink have fell down, including some of the children in the class. Yet, Junhee seems dazed by his sudden departure from even Byeongkwan’s eye-level, and Donghun moves over swiftly in his aid. He tries to ignore Byeongkwan’s gaze bleeding into his back.

“You okay?” 

“Only my ego’s hurt,” Junhee states stiffly, and Donghun has to hold back a laugh.

“Okay, you know how to get up, right?” Donghun asks, and almost pales at the shake of Junhee’s head.

Right. It’s simple. Easy to teach.

“Okay. Get on your knees.”

Junhee lets out a breathless laugh, before following Donghun’s instructions.

“I didn’t mean- not, like-” 

“What do I do now?” 

“Okay, right-” Donghun starts, and clears his throat. “Put one knee out in front of you.” 

Junhee then does a terrible impression of a model pose, leg stretched out straight in front of him, smiling eagerly at Donghun. It’s not that funny, but Donghun finds himself laughing anyways as he places his hands underneath Junhee’s thigh and drags it up, to kneel in front of him. 

“Since you can’t follow basic instructions…” Donghun jokes half-heartedly, taking both of Junhee’s hands and placing them on his knee. He ignores Junhee’s giggly protests, and crosses his hands over his knee.

“Push hard, down on your knee, and you’ll straighten up. Don’t worry. I’ll catch you if you fall.” 

Junhee straightens up, and in fact, does nearly fall again- but Donghun’s hands are already at his back, skates toe-to-toe, supporting his spine. 

They’re inches apart.  _ Stop being so desperate, Donghun. It’s been thirty minutes.  _ Donghun takes a step back, hand outstretched to steady Junhee, and the other man gives him a genuine smile. 

“You got it.” 

“Squeeze your butt!” Byeongkwan shrieks from behind them. “Squeeze it! Come on! You can do it!” 

Junhee and Donghun both burst in laughter simultaneously, Donghun’s outstretched hand giving Junhee’s forearm a light squeeze before falling back to his side. They both spare a glance towards each other, and Donghun notices how Junhee’s gaze flickers across both his eyes, down to the bottom of his face and back up again. 

Yuchan. Don’t forget Yuchan.

♢

“You sure Yuchan will even want to see us?” Donghun asks, looking desperately for a way out. 

The last thing he wanted to do was visit Yuchan, beside Junhee and Byeongkwan, see the happy couple acting lovey-dovey with each other despite Yuchan’s sickness. Donghun has known Junhee for all of two hours, and over a cup of Junhee’s sickeningly sweet frappuccino he had quickly come to the conclusion that Yuchan’s feelings were, in fact, not one sided. Not that Donghun had much experience with confessions and love in the slightest, but it was _ pretty obvious _ .

Yuchan this. Yuchan that. Donghun wasn’t jealous, would never be jealous of the boy that was practically his younger brother. Yet, he knew him and Junhee were hitting it off, and it was, well,  _ irritating  _ to see how he was already taken by someone Donghun knew. Donghun’s best friend, his younger brother, the light of his life of all people. He could never hurt Yuchan. Not even if he hadn’t sat through days of his lip-biting, contemplative sadness after Junhee left for his job abroad.

Donghun was busy at the time, around two years ago- on the verge of losing his job as a disencouraged vocal trainer. He hadn’t got much time to baby Yuchan, running around babying other upper-class children he actually got  _ paid _ to teach and take care of. Byeongkwan was there, on break from his invigorating task as a McDonald’s employee who called in sick more than he attended his job. 

Also, Junhee is nice. Really nice. Sweet and evidently thoughtful, his smile soft and warm, his hands similarly so. His eyes twinkle in the faint light from overhead, and he tilts his head towards Donghun.

“I’m  _ sure  _ he’ll want to see us,” Junhee says, and passes a handful of cash to the lady behind the register with a grateful smile. “He loves being cared about.” 

“Don’t we all,” Donghun groans, which earns him a soft elbow nudge from Junhee.

“Yuchan’s your friend. And he’s ill. The least you could do is be decent,” He replies, still looking towards the register at the woman who rushes back to retrieve his order from the kitchen. 

“I didn’t even know he liked this type of soup,” Byeongkwan yawns, stretching his hands above his head, promptly ensued by the cracking of far too many bones to be healthy.

“We had it all the time, in the apartment. His mom brought it once, from Jeju, and I tried to recreate it and failed a lot. It’s good memories.” 

The apartment. For a second, Donghun had forgotten about that- that they had lived together for nearly two years before Junhee had left. He’s almost grateful, then, that him and Junhee didn’t meet before- that the name was never a face until this afternoon. Donghun knows 24 year old him, and he knows he would’ve hurt Junhee, Yuchan and then himself. 

They leave the takeaway building, Junhee’s gloved hands still clutching the plastic carton of Samgyetang, heading out into the early evening of Seoul. Around them, the cars beep with their monotonous horns and the street lights turn on slowly as they padded down a path. The red rear lights and yellow light up the inky sky, and Donghun buries his hands deeper in his pockets.

“Here,” Byeongkwan announces, as they turn the corner towards Yuchan’s apartment complex.

Junhee immediately thrusts the plastic bowl towards Donghun, who takes it without question, and then he reaches forward to press the buzzer for Yuchan’s apartment. The harsh noise interrupts the stillness of the night, causing Byeongkwan to quirk an eyebrow, but Junhee doesn’t care- bouncing on the heels of his feet, smile wide. 

It feels like he’s known Junhee for longer than he has. In a way, almost, they’ve known each other indirectly for longer than they can perhaps recall, and it comes through in a way where Donghun knows exactly what’s going to happen as soon as Yuchan’s crackly voice comes through the speakers.

“Hello?” Poor boy. He’s obviously sick. Maybe they should go home. 

“ _ Yuchannie~ _ ” Junhee coos, disgustingly fond.

“Hyung?” 

“I have samgyetang,” He announces, proud, reaching out to drum loudly against the lid of the carton. “And I have your friends hostage too.”

“My friends?” 

“Donghun and Byeongkwan. They’re here with me.” 

The voice over the speaker gives way to an even louder sound, more akin to an alarm than anything else. Momentarily, Donghun and Byeongkwan glance towards each other in shock, but Junhee only springs towards the door on the balls of his feet, excitement rolling off of him. Donghun can feel it from where he stands, now a few metres away, and can see it on the ridiculous grin plastered across Junhee’s face. 

Desperately clutching the full carton, Donghun chases after Junhee, sprinting up to an elevator beside Byeongkwan just in time to slide in between the open doors.He hands the samgyetang back to Junhee, and wipes at his brow with a free hand.

This was not what he was expecting when he woke up this morning.  _ Oh Donghun, teach some kids how to skate, then go home and watch sky castle with a tub of ice cream that’s salty from your tears. _ Not, _ Donghun, come with Byeongkwan and Yuchan’s boyfriend who you may have a schoolgirl-esque crush on to visit him while he’s ill _ . Fuck you, soju, and mostly, fuck you, Byeongkwan.

Yuchan, as according to Junhee’s predictions, is in fact happy to see them. He takes the soup off of Junhee, and welcomes them into his messy apartment. Donghun picks up stray clothes and folds blankets as he goes along, watching as Byeongkwan sinks into a sofa and Junhee follows on Yuchan’s heels to the kitchen. 

They’re speaking in low tones too far away for Donghun to eavesdrop, so he looks around Yuchan’s apartment. Now, he really was far from  _ loaded _ , but his family ran a restaurant and he was also far from living like a newly-graduated student (which he was). The apartment was decorated like a thirty year old woman lived there, in a good way, but as Donghun makes this comment to Yuchan it only earns him a scrunched nose and a stuck out tongue, as well as a bowl of hot soup placed directly into his hands.

“I don’t-” 

“Have some, please,” Yuchan says, voice thick and stuffy. “I can’t eat all of it.” 

“Channie,” Junhee pouts, and  _ oh my god, we get it, you’re in love-  _ “You need to eat it to get better, okay?” 

“Okay,” he responds, smiling, squeezing at Junhee’s hand. Then he turns to face Donghun and Byeongkwan both. 

“Did you meet Donghun and Byeongkwan at the rink?”

“Yeah, you were supposed to show-” Junhee stops, and pouts. “I was worried about you.”

“’m fine.”

“You’re not. You need to rest more.”

The two of them look at each other for a moment, abashed, and Donghun wants to punch himself in the face. Actually, maybe it would hurt more if someone else did it. It would hurt the most, perhaps, if Junhee did it- with his stupid smile in his stupid skinny jeans with his stupid styled hair. 

“Should we leave you two?” Byeongkwan interrupts, raising his eyebrows at the two of them. Donghun is glad to know someone else is also sick of them. 

“No, I- Junhee, hyung, I’m sorry- I’m going to give you a cold.” 

“It’s okay,” Junhee affirms, with a soft smile and hands placed on either side of Yuchan’s face. He shakes Chan’s face up and down in between his palms, and Chan laughs at him. “Take care of yourself.” 

“Mmm, I will,” Yuchan replies, nodding and smiling in response. Junhee pats the side of his face- lovingly, one could say. The one not being Donghun. Definitely not being Donghun.

All of his friends, Donghun belatedly realises as they exit the apartment, have someone they’re with, whether stated or not. It makes Donghun feel achingly lonely, even as he stands right beside two people.

Even as he says goodbye to Byeongkwan as the younger man steps into a taxi, some part of Donghun calls for him to ask him to stay- ask him if he wants a bottle of beer and some pizza. Even as Junhee and him walk in silence, back to a bus stop that’ll lead them to the heart of the city, Donghun wants to ask if Junhee’s in the mood for sushi, if he wouldn’t be against speaking to Donghun for a little longer- just a little bit.

He’s desperate, but as Junhee leaves him behind at the bus stop, waving goodbye from behind a foggy window, Donghun tries to not feel saddened. It’s not the snow that didn’t stay, or the boy he lost in the minute of meeting him. And it’s definitely not the hail hitting the plastic roof of the bus stop, or the dull rumbling of thunder in the distance.

  
  


♢♢

byeongkwan added you to a “ 69420party4eva” 

sehyoon: welcome to hell

donghun: what is this? 

jun: i’m throwing a party! 

jun: well. my friends are throwing a “surprise” party for me coming back 

jun: it’s not much of a surprise…   
jun: and i’m inviting all of you!

donghun: oh. Cool

yuchan: not Cool   
yuchan: junhee’s friends are frat boys   
yuchan: they’re obnoxiously heterosexual

jun: me and sehyoon were obnoxiously heterosexual when i was here before   
  


yuchan: now sehyoon is dating byeongkwan   
yuchan: and you wore leather pants   
yuchan: it’s over, baby   
  
jun: :/   
jun: i’ll see you there   
jun: [Address Shared]

jun: don’t bail this time   
  


♢

Donghun doesn’t expect to feel immediately elcomed when he arrives, but the moment he exits the cab, and inhales the smell of expensive alcohol, he knows he doesn’t really belong. Even if the smell wasn’t enough, the building itself seems ominous- tall, slightly towering, its balconies crowded with people Donghun doesn’t recognise whistling and whooping. 

The campus they’re on is prestigious, too. He hasn’t stepped into a university since he left four years ago, but he can already tell by name and the expensive look of the building that this is a far call from the type of university parties he went to when he was young. 

Donghun reaches for the doorknob, and it opens into a warmly lit corridor. It’s chilly outside, so he steps in without further delay, draws the door shut behind him. There’s a couple all over each other uncomfortably near to the entrance- the girl wearing a party hat that Donghun thinks, later, should belong to Junhee. 

He steps over strewn confetti and discarded cans, and makes his way into the communal room. That, too, seems too expensive for Donghun to be standing there- in his three year old vans and old leather jacket. The people sprawled across sofas and on the floor seem to notice it too, a boy with both his arms around girls lowering his head to peer at Donghun drunkenly.

He knows he’s late, old, and dressed somewhat like a loser, but he didn’t expect to be stared at so much.

His eyes scan the room, across the one-two-three unusually large sofas, all devoid of anyone he’s familiar with. Donghun scratches the back of his neck, feeling suddenly out of place, like his clothes don’t fit him anymore and he’s about to turn into a pumpkin.  _ That’s how Cinderella goes, right? _

“Donghun,” a voice calls, and he glances up towards the makeshift bar to be greeted with Junhee’s smile. 

“Junhee, happy… returning- party.” Donghun manages to stutter out, somewhat awkward.

“Thanks,” Junhee replies, cheeks slightly reddened by the heat inside the lounge. His eyes seem to sparkle in the dim light overhead, skin glowing in it’s warm embrace. “You clean up well.” 

Donghun clears his throat, makes a motion towards his clothes and lifts his eyebrows.

“You know I tried my best.”

Junhee giggles at that, brings up the cup to his face- a small smile just reaching his eyes.

He looks… cute. Like he did four days ago, back at the rink. He’s wearing something thick, obscured by the dim lighting, black jeans and dress shoes. The only accentuations are his earrings and watch, which glitter in the softness of the lights overhead.

“Yo, Jun, man,” someone yells, from somewhere not too far away. “I haven’t seen you in ages!”

Suddenly a more-than-wasted  _ dude _ wraps his arm around Junhee’s shoulder, pulls his head down to give him a noogie, the likes of which Donghun hasn’t experienced since 2011. The very reminder makes him give a very dazed Junhee a weak smile when he reemerges from under the man’s arm, his grip tight on the unfamiliar coat. 

“Who’s this?” The guy asks, smiling loosely towards Donghun.

_ No. Nope. No thanks. _

Donghun can already see Junhee’s mouth opening, the words leaving his mouth, everyone erupting into applause and awe around him. He can imagine the questions coming, persistent, the heat of fifty bodies cramming around him desperate to look at South Korea’s Lee Donghun’s face-

“One of Yuchan’s friends,” Junhee replies simply.

“Mm. Cool. Nice to meet you, dude.” 

“You too,” Donghun replies, shaking the hand that was thrust in his direction.

“Hey, Jun,” The man replies, turning back towards Junhee, raising a hand in an attempt of a high five. “Now that you’re back in Korea we need to  _ link,  _ dude. It isn’t cool how long you went. I didn’t even know you’d gone until Yuchan told me.”

“Sorry,” Junhee answers, half hearted, completes the messy high five as to not embarrass the other man even further. 

After a few more moments of idle chatter, and a too-hard clap on Junhee’s back, the other man leaves, sporting a newly sprouted smile and Junhee’s drink in his hand. Donghun protests, only lightly, to him walking away with more alcohol, but Junhee reassures him that it’s  _ just punch. _

“But, if I’m being serious, I don’t really know what they put in the punch here,” Junhee giggles, and takes a step closer towards Donghun. 

“Oh,” Donghun laughs, breathlessly, less than half a metre away from Junhee now. “You can’t trust the frat boys, huh?” 

Junhee laughs, and shakes his head before lifting up both hands to his ears. 

“I can’t hear you,” he mouths, and offers a sheepish smile in Donghun’s direction.

Donghun leans closer, to whisper in Junhee’s ear. 

“Do you want to go outside?” 

He doesn’t mean to stumble a little, press his lips just on the shell of Junhee’s ear. It’s okay, though, because the younger man steadies him with both hands on his waist, the cold metal of his earring only brushing against Donghun’s cheek.

Junhee smells like what Donghun assumes gucci perfume smells like, on top of a whiff of clean laundry. He’s put some behind his ears, too, Donghun can tell.  _ Probably for Yuchan,  _ Donghun thinks, bitter, and has to stop himself from frowning.

He pulls away, and looks at Junhee, who only gives him a curt nod before grabbing his hand, leading him through a set of sliding double doors into the backyard. The change in temperature and noise is instant, and Donghun is rendered in shock temporarily whilst Junhee slides the door shut behind them. 

The sky is perfectly dark, a winter’s evening sky. No hints of peach or pink dance on the horizon in view, just Junhee making his way into Donghun’s version, perching on the end of a swing on the back porch. Donghun laughs a little at that, joins him in the garden chair opposite, hands unoccupied and hanging loosely into his lap.

“I forgot how loud these things get,” Donghun mumbles, looking down at his fingers. “I haven’t been to a party in so long.” 

“I bet you got invited to a lot when you did figure skating, though, right?” Junhee chuckles, nursing his drink delicately between both hands. 

“Couldn’t go to any of them, but yeah. A lot.” 

“Why couldn’t you go?” 

“I had training,” Donghun reminds him, gentle. “Every evening, until late. Some mornings too.” 

“Ah, right. I forgot,” Junhee laughs, hearty, disrupting the faint chirp of crickets in the distance. “I never did a sport like that. Only soccer, sometimes. I gave it up at college, though.”

“What did you study at college?” 

“Oh, singing,” Junhee says, and smirks. “Yuchan told me you sing too.”

“I was a vocal trainer for a while,” Donghun hums thoughtfully. “For spoiled children. Then, I- I guess it got too much. So I quit. And now... I’m still a vocal trainer for spoiled children, but I’m self-employed.” 

Junhee giggles, sharp, and leans against the wooden frame of the swing, smile still written across his features. After a few moments, his expression becomes more serious, and Donghun is reminded of a child coming to a revelation.

“Do you miss figure skating?”

Oh. Not exactly what he expected. 

“Yeah.”

“Wasn’t it… hard?” 

Donghun smiles at Junhee fondly then, at his slightly parted lips and keen expression. 

“It was really hard. But, it felt like- like flying. When you learn the routine, after so many days and nights of practice, and you can just- focus. Entirely on skating, on the feeling of moving through the air without thinking. It was, freeing.”

Junhee bites his lip, holding back a small smile.

“You make it sound so romantic.”

“It was one of the best things in my life,” Donghun recounts. “And then… you know.”

A silence surrounds them, not ill fitting but perfectly comfortable, as if the conversation had come to a natural standstill. Donghun looks on, into the groups of trees at the end of the yard, into the night sky with it’s faint hooting owls. He then draws his attention back to Junhee, who looks at him with a small, curious smile.

“Yuchan?” 

“Mm,” Junhee hums, awkwardly, then looks down into his cup. “He said he had some work emergency, or something. I don’t know.”

Donghun swallows anxiously, darts out his tongue from between his lips to wet them. The wind is blowing, harsh.

“He’s busy,” he offers, as some kind of reassurance. “I never see him anymore, either.” 

Junhee’s smile drops off his face, forming a pout as he looks to his left, into the yard. His eyes seem unfocused. 

“It feels like he’s ignoring me, you know,” Junhee mutters, then looks back down at his cup with a forced laugh. “I sound pathetic. I know I’ve been gone for a while, I didn’t expect things to- be the same, I guess, but just… similar? But everything’s so different, now. He was my best friend when I left, and I guess I just thought he still would be when I came back.”

“I don’t know,” Junhee says suddenly, breathlessly, interrupting himself, looking directly at Donghun. “Maybe I’m just naive.”

_ Oh, you beautiful idiot, _ Donghun thinks.  _ He’s in love with you.  _

“It’s not naive,” Donghun replies, instead. “It’s… idealistic, maybe.”

“Romantic,” Junhee breathes, clasps one hand to his heart and pulls a fake despairing face. 

“Shut up,” Donghun laughs. “You know, it’s not a bad thing to have expectations, either way. I wouldn’t call that being naive. You shouldn’t stop expecting the world to be good to you, you just have to be prepared for when it isn’t.” 

Junhee picks at the edge of his cup, nail scratching against cardboard. They sit in silence, together, for a moment, until the younger man places his cup beside him and his eyes meet Donghun’s.

“You’re so smart, Professor Lee,” Junhee says, sappy, sudden, widening his eyes in mock flirting and fluttering his eyelashes. “It’s like you have the cure for my heart.”

“I know,” Donghun replies sarcastically, widening his eyes and copying Junhee’s lean in response. “I should be a life coach.” 

Junhee’s laugh is quiet this time, contained in his throat, behind his somewhat sealed lips as he looks towards Donghun. His hair falls into his eyes, and Donghun resists the urge to push it back.

“Junhee,” Donghun mumbles.

_ Yuchan really cares for you, _ he wants to say. 

Yet, he finds himself still, eyes focused entirely on the Junhee right next to him, lips slightly parted, pink against his tan skin, against the cool blue night. 

Yuchan really did love Junhee, that much Donghun knew. Even hearing secondhand accounts from Byeongkwan with his mouth full of pizza, Donghun was fully aware at how much his best friend cared for Junhee. It made him happy. Sort of. In a very convoluted way, obviously masked by how bitter he felt at love in general.

His joy was in there somewhere, for Junhee and Yuchan. Donghun just needed to dig it out from his cold, unforgiving heart. 

“There you are!”

They both lean back instinctively, look away to Byeongkwan, standing with Sehyoon in tow right behind. They’re near the glass entranceway, and as they enter onto the porch Junhee reaches behind to push the door closed. Obnoxiously, they both scuffle their way in between, with the knocking of knees and elbows in faces, Byeongkwan complaining about the weather.

After they’re all settled in, nestled between the two of them, Junhee raises his eyebrows at Donghun, then smirking playfully. 

“We were looking for Yuchan,” Byeongkwan comments, absently, still adjusting himself on the swing beside Junhee.

“He couldn’t come. Work emergency,” Junhee says, before he reaches for his drink and downs it in one go.

“Ah,” Byeongkwan sighs, obviously drunk, leaning onto Junhee’s shoulder. “He’s always on some sort of work emergency. What is he even _doing_ at work, it’s so late. Guys, what if he’s been kidnapped? What if my poor Channie’s been kidnapped? What do we do?” 

“I’m sorry,” Sehyoon apologises, patting Donghun’s back as he looks to Byeongkwan in disgust. “I tried to stop him from drinking.” 

Junhee just laughs, and his eyes twinkle when he looks towards Donghun.

♢♢

“Why are you here? Again?”

“So that’s a phone? You’re not just happy to see me?” 

Junhee stands on the edge of the rink, leaning against the fencing, just over a week from their first encounter, now clad in skates that are laced too neatly for Junhee to have done it himself. In fact, he’s surprised at how Junhee appears to actually be vertical at this very moment in time.

“I thought you gave up last week after you fell down for the seventh time,” Donghun says, skating over to Junhee, stretching his hand out to the glass barrier to stop himself. “ _ Donghun, I think my ass is permanently flattened by falling on it so much. _ ”

Junhee laughs a little, pushes at Donghun with his free hand. 

“Okay, yes,” he chuckles. “But… you made it sound so cool, last week. At the party. I want to- to do that.” 

The party. 

He remembers the cheap beer and the light catching Junhee’s earrings. He remembers being interrupted by his friends, both of them taking seats beside him and Junhee, and the four of them spending the rest of the night, which faded into the early hours of the morning, out on the back porch, talking about themselves. It was fun, talking and talking in the quickly emerging light. To be fair, he had downed all of his and Sehyoon’s drinks and ended up vaguely disoriented, unable to recall much of what anyone was saying, but he was sure it was on the fun side.

What he does remember clearly is Junhee squeezing his arm goodbye, before he climbed into a taxi, half a wave before he left.

And now he was here.

“You’ll have to get pretty far before you can even  _ try  _ to do a spin,” Donghun says, smiling. “You’ll have to fall over more, too.” 

Junhee punches a hand into the air, smile written across all his features. His eyes form half crescent moons, and he looks nothing short of a toddler who got his favourite candy.

“I can do this!”

♢

An hour, five falls and a hello kitty plaster on the knee later, Donghun is paying for a regretful Junhee’s strawberry frappuccino. He doesn’t understand how he can look so mournful with half a muffin in his mouth, but Junhee manages it anyway, looking out from the confines of the cafe back towards the building which housed the rink. It was grey, ugly, but not obtrusive- melding in with everything else in their tiresome surroundings. The rain thundered down outside, hitting the panes of glass with dull thuds, splaying water and distorting everything in their nearby vision.

“You alright?” Donghun asks, seeing Junhee’s bottom lip quiver.

To be fair, he had taken to the ice like a fish to water. Junhee seems to be struggling a lot more than he did, so Donghun was at a loss for what to do to make him feel better, other than offer his support. 

“I just-” Junhee sighs deeply, and looks towards Donghun.

He closes his eyes, and sticks both his hands in the air- palms open, blowing out air from puffed cheeks. Donghun watches in vague amusement as he slowly clenches his fists, then releases- inhaling and exhaling in a rhythm. He seems to be calming himself down, preventing himself to possibly-

“Fuck!” Junhee yells, and slams his fist down, shaking both of their cups.

_ -slamming his fist on the table. _

Around them, the buzz of people fades, and Donghun finds himself offering a particularly disgruntled parent a sympathetic glance. Junhee still has his eyes closed, lip still quivering a little, fist shaking against the table. He doesn’t move, not until a group of teenage girls push past him with their elbows all hitting his shoulder simultaneously.

The younger man seems to resign himself then, lowers both of his arms to the table in front of him, closely followed by his head. Soon, in the place of his face is a mop of messy brunette hair, and Donghun ruffles it fondly. 

“I’ve never been so bad at something in my life,” his voice comes out muffled. 

“Of course,” Donghun laughs, leaning on one elbow, looking down at Junhee’s head pitifully. “Park Junhee. You were probably good at everything.” 

Junhee looks up then, leans his chin on his folded arms and pouts beguilingly at Donghun. 

“You’re right.”

“I hate you,” Donghun chuckles, snatching up his coffee and taking a long sip before setting it down again. “You were the type of person I hated in high school. And university.” 

“Why?” Junhee says, pouting more. “Am I too attractive?” 

Donghun ignores him.

“You pass everything easily, you do everything well without trying… then when something doesn’t go your way you get upset, and pouty. And force your helpless instructor into paying for your stupidly expensive, disgustingly sweet drink.” 

“You’re right, again,” Junhee sighs, leaning on his arms horizontally this time, casting a sidelong glance out the window. “Maybe you should be my therapist.” 

“Maybe you need to realise that the best things in life take effort.” 

Junhee seems to mull over that point for a few seconds, looking outside the window as if he was genuinely thinking about it. Then, after a minute or so, he opens his mouth.

“I’ll pass, thanks.” Junhee answers, monotone.

“Junhee, you can’t-”

“I wanted something to pass the time,” he sighs. “You know, I’m back home and- it feels like no-one cares. Byeongkwan is always working. Sehyoon is distant. Yuchan is ignoring me. I’m not- not a university student anymore, either. All I have now are these- ice skating lessons. Which I suck at.” 

Donghun feels an odd sense of sympathy for him in that moment. 

He understands, what it's like, being alone and feeling alone- being far away from your friends even if your so close. And looking at Junhee, he realises that maybe, just maybe, the glassiness in his eyes is about more than the cut on his knee or how his butt hurts from falling.

“Sorry for… unloading all of that onto you,” Junhee chuckles, nervous, leaning back into his seat. “I’ll go now. Thanks for- putting up with me. And my shitty skating.”

_ Ask him to stay. Ask him to go eat. Ask him if he needs a ride home. _

“Anytime,” he says, instead.

♢

The last thing Donghun expects, really, is for Junhee to show up again the next week- still with the same resolute smile and no less determined. It’s endearing, almost, how Junhee can be so massively optimistic when he is the worst beginner Donghun has ever seen. After two lessons, and not even being able to stand on skates for more than a minute, Junhee is back in the rink, dangling rent-a-pair skates in front of Donghun, giggling.

“Your knee’s doing better, I guess?” Donghun asks, snarky. 

He puts his arms behind him, on the fencing, watches carefully as Junhee takes a seat and undoes his laces. 

“Okay, I understand, we all understand-” Junhe laughs. “I’m not so great, even for a beginner-”

“Hilarious understatement.” 

“Okay, but! I want to learn,” Junhee finishes tying one skate with a twirl of his wrist, and looks up to smile at Donghun. “That’s all that matters.” 

“Being aware of your own lack of ability also matters, which you’ve achieved. Now the final step is to maybe consider it isn’t for you.” 

Donghun doesn’t know why he’s being so cold, suddenly, but the words come out of his mouth without intention or meaning. He looks to Junhee to see if any offense is taken, but he only grins- finishes tying his laces and stands with another smirk. 

“Oh, come on,” he teases. “I bet you were terrible when you first started.” 

“I don’t remember, actually,” Donghun recounts, lying through his teeth. “As far as I remember… I was landing axels at age three and a half.”

Junhee reaches forward and punches him playfully in the shoulder, almost managing to trip over his own skates and fall over backwards in the process. Instead, Donghun puts a reassuring arm around his waist to keep him steady, laughing at the younger man’s misery. His cheeks are blushed pink from the embarrassment.

“Come on,” Donghun whispers. “Let’s get on the ice so you can hurt yourself more.” 

As expected, he does hurt himself. 

And he does cry about it, a little, while Donghun is delicately placing another plaster on his knee. 

Then, purely out of sympathy, Donghun buys Junhee another compensation drink. Which he, in turn, sips sadly in the nearby coffee shop whilst providing his newly dry perspective of the world. 

They do it again, a couple days later. The exact same routine. 

Then again, and again, until Donghun takes out money every couple of days for his and Junhee’s drinks. Until he’s learnt by Junhee’s expression which drink to order him, based almost entirely on the amount of tears in his eyes. Donghun says this as a dry remark to Junhee, who only quirks an eyebrow, lips pursed around the cusp of his hot chocolate, tears dried on his cheeks. 

“Isn’t it stupid, doing this when you just end up crying? Every other day?” Donghun genuinely inquires.

“Maybe,” Junhee chuckles, blowing off steam from the top of his drink. He takes a sip, then sets it down carefully on the table. “Do you want me to be honest?” 

Donghun makes a vague gesture for him to continue.

“I like spending time with you,” he says. “And skating is fun, even if I- hurt myself sometimes. You know? I’ve told you this- all my friends are busy during the week, apart from you- and you’re fun to be around. Really fun. And now we’re friends, as well.”

For a few moments, Donghun can only blink, processing the words only after Junhee has let them stew in the air. 

There’s something strange and thick in Donghun’s throat, not dissimilar to the time he had met Junhee at his party at the frathouse. Except, this is worse- because Junhee is looking at him expectantly, as if for an answer- blinking slowly in his wait for a reply. All Donghun can do in response is open and close his mouth like a stupid goldfish, and eventually nod curtly, as if to round off his speech of various mouth noises.

_ I like spending time with you too, _ Donghun wants to say.  _ You’re fun, too. You’re also really cute, please consider not dating my best friend. _

Junhee just exhales breathlessly, and picks up his drink again.

♢♢

Yuchan changed the name of “69420party4eva” to “krusty krab funfair”.

byeongkwan: what

yuchan: we’re all going to the funfair!

junhee: are you going to show up?

yuchan: yes    
yuchan: for sure   
  


sehyoon: when are we going

yuchan: 16th jan

yuchan: be there

♢

Donghun really doesn’t know how to dress for these things. 

He knows Sehyoon will outdress everyone, fancy berets and too-big animal print coats from his trips abroad. 

He also knows Byeongkwan will underdress, throwing on a vaguely dishevelled hoodie and claiming capitalism is the work of the devil. All whilst simultaneously sucking up to his boyfriend and his cartier bracelets.

Anyways.

He wants to wear something nice. For himself, of course. Not his best friend’s ex that he has a painful hard-on for.

At the same time, Donghun doesn’t want to make himself look  _ stupid _ . He’s aware that Sehyoon can pull off all-denim and oversized clothes more than anyone else. He’s also aware that his closet consists of approximately three appropriate clothes, and he also really doesn’t know whether he has the energy to fish them all out for inspection, or the time, because he is painfully aware Yuchan is coming to pick him up in less than a few minutes.

He scans through his closet, desperate, and picks out an old band tee and a blazer- some ripped jeans which he hasn’t wore in a while. It’s not like he’s had any reason to leave the house recently, with Byeongkwan working long hours at the studio and then the rink, Sehyoon always travelling and Yuchan ignoring him.

Donghun really doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve read receipts on all his texts, but he just supposed Yuchan was busy and had little time for anything else than his job.  _ Training idols is exhausting _ is the only text he’s received from his friend in the past couple weeks. 

Yet, from their surprise outing, and Byeongkwan’s too-specific recount of Yuchan’s emotions, he guessed it’s something specific.

Just as Donghun runs a waxy hand through his hair, he hears the buzz of his phone against the wooden sidetable.

_ I’m here. _

Maybe too concise to be passed off as entirely friendly, but Donghun is nothing if not patient. He replies quickly, checks all his windows are shut and lights are off before descending the staircase to his and Yuchan’s old meet-point less than a street away. It’s almost unspoken that it’s where the younger man comes to pick him up, when needs be, and even when they don’t- when he wants to drive around at 12am and eat cold takeaway and complain about bratty idols.

_ Used  _ to want to drive around. He doesn’t ask anymore. He’s been kind of cold since… nearly a year ago, maybe, now that Donghun’s recalling it. 

Regret bubbles in his chest for not speaking sooner, or perhaps for accepting Yuchan’s out-of-the-blue offer to pick him up to fifth wheel on a double date, but his feet are already moving beneath him and he can’t bear to look back.

Yuchan waves at him through the slightly fogged window of his car, bright smile compressed into a thin line. At that, Donghun returns the wave, jogs over to the car and tugs at the passenger seat handle.

The car is a breath of fresh air when he slides into the warmed passenger seat. He draws his belt tight around his frame, and then turns to face Yuchan.

“Hi.” 

The younger man doesn’t respond immediately, indicator ticking as he stares straight forward.

“Hi.”

God, this is awkward. 

“I haven’t spoken to you in a while,” Donghun comments, now looking down at his hands in his lap, palms open. 

The car pulls out from where it’s parked on the side of the street, and hums down the small path. Yuchan doesn’t reply- again- not for a few moments, at least, whilst he pulls onto a bigger road away from Donghun’s complex.

“Yeah, I’ve-” Yuchan clears his throat. “Been busy.”

_ Oh, come on Chan,  _ Donghun feels like saying.  _ Tell me the truth. I want to hear about you. _

Maybe it’s the new burst of emotions he’s feeling that gives him the sudden eruption of confidence, but he says exactly that. Donghun gazes intently at Yuchan and his front-forward stare- notices that his knuckles are white at the wheel, fingers wrapped entirely around it. 

“It’s been a lot, really,” Yuchan sighs. “New job. Then Junhee came back, and I got ill, and-”

He exhales deeply, blinking as if he’s trying to keep himself awake. 

“How do you feel about Jun coming back?”

Yuchan licks his lips anxiously and forces out an awkward chuckle, entire face creasing in embarrassment. Donghun can’t help but chastise him a little for that, for being so shy speaking about the boy he has feelings for. It was never like this before, didn’t have to be like this now.

“Yeah, I-I don’t know. I had a lot of feelings for him before he left, ones that he didn’t return. And now he’s back, and he keeps-” Yuchan sighs, deeper this time, casts a sideways glance at Donghun. “I don’t know if this is just  _ him _ now, hyung, but it feels like he’s giving me signs.”

“Signs?”

“That he returns the feeling.”

There’s a beat of silence, filled only by the whir of the engine and low sound of the radio. Donghun practically feels his heart sink in that split second, as if someone had cut all the strings holding it still in his chest. 

“You still have feelings for him, then?” 

“It’s- complicated.” 

Yuchan presses his lips together, rolls out his lower lip from between his teeth. He looks more conflicted as he does so, eyes still scanning the road in front of him.

“You told Byeongkwan about it.” Donghun states. 

He sighs, again.

“I’m sorry, hyung,” Yuchan says. “I feel bad asking you for advice.”

They’ve reached the funfair now, lights shining high and bright not too far in the distance from where they’re parked. Donghun can even spy Sehyoon’s car in the empty parking lot, and it’s strange, knowing that he was picked specifically by Yuchan because they’re the reason the group dynamic is failing.

“I’m here so you can ask me, Chan, that’s what friends are for,” Donghun reassures, places a gentle hand on his shoulder. “So, you’re going to tell him?” 

“I wanted to see if we all… got along. I can’t even think about dating him before I know that he could be one of my friends, too,” Yuchan says, candid, then immediately bites his lip as if he regrets saying it.

Donghun thinks back to the party, and the weeks of skating lessons him and Junhee have shared. He’s seen Junhee fall on his ass more times than he can count, he’s held his hands, bought him coffee every week much to the detriment of his bank account. 

Yuchan seems blissfully unaware of it all, and It’s not like Donghun expected Junhee to tell him. Well, that’s a lie. He kind of did. But he isn’t put off by the fact he didn’t, of course- there’s nothing to tell to Yuchan- except, maybe, that Donghun is a good teacher? Maybe that Junhee comes in every couple of days with a new plaster somewhere on his body and Donghun refuses to teaches him but still does? You’d think Yuchan would ask, maybe?

“No, I understand.” Donghun nods in affirmation.

He opens his mouth to speak again, but before he can Byeongkwan’s face is smushed against their window, and he hears Sehyoon’s faint hollering outside. 

“Looks like I have to face the world, now,” Yuchan says breathlessly.

Donghun follows his gaze, to off a few metres behind Byeongkwan and Sehyoon terrorising his window. Junhee is standing, arms crossed, scarf piled up to obscure his face, laughing at the two of them and their distorted features once pressed against the window. 

He looks good. It’s the first time Donghun’s seen him out of a hoodie and sweatpants in months. It’s not like he’s dolled up, he’s just dressed like  _ Junhee, _ in a sweater and ripped jeans and his hair blown out by the wind. Donghun can understand, more than a little, why Yuchan is so drawn to him.

“Give me attention or I’ll die,” Byeongkwan groans against the window, voice coming out muffled. 

Donghun turns, smiles at the distorted image of Byeongkwan’s face, and resorts to pushing him out the way with the sudden swing of his car door. It knocks him to one side- backwards into Sehyoon’s body. 

Donghun chooses to ignore Byeongkwan’s betrayed face in favour of shutting the door behind him with a slam, looking over to Junhee with a small wave. He also watches as Yuchan heads over, arm outstretched for Junhee to take it, and the two of them fall into a comfortable hug.

“Hello? Donghun?” Sehyoon whistles, waving a hand in his face.

“Yeah- sorry,” Donghun resumes, playing it off with a chuckle. “I haven’t seen you since last year, how was Paris?” 

They carry on the small talk until Junhee and Chan join them, arms and hands connected, Junhee’s head resting against Yuchan’s side.

Byeongkwan quirks an eyebrow at Yuchan when Junhee turns his gaze away, and Donghun wishes he didn’t catch it because of how obviously blushy and flustered Yuchan immediately turns.

From there, they make their way onto the funfair grounds- the main buzz of families and young couples gone, now- giving way to groups of older children and university students. As soon as they enter, neon lights strike their faces, illuminating features in the darkness, speech having to be yelled over the obnoxious soundtrack of multiple rides all playing at the same time. 

Somehow, Junhee and Donghun end up alone together.

Sehyoon and Byeongkwan go to get tickets, Yuchan is getting cotton candy, something along those lines- because now Junhee is face to face with Donghun, draped in something too broad, too long and most likely belonging to Yuchan. He has that same catlike smile, crescent moon eyes, fringe flattened by the wind and falling into his face, obscuring his eyebrows. Yet, his features manage to look sharp in the neon colours flashing from the ride opposite- illuminating him in pinks and purples.

“I missed you,” Junhee chuckles, nestling further under the coat. “I went to the rink yesterday, but they said you weren’t there.” 

“Yeah, I-” Donghun breaks his speech with a laugh. “Only do a couple days a week, now. Sorry I didn’t tell you.” 

Junhee nods, face splitting into another smile. He looks down, at the toes of his combat boots peering out from beneath his haphazardly cuffed jeans. 

“I left,” he says, simple. “I wanted you to teach me.” 

Donghun opens his mouth to reply, but just at that moment Byeongkwan and Sehyoon return, clutching fistfuls of pink paper tickets, grins plastered across their faces. Yuchan follows shortly after, balloons of cotton candy on sticks strung between his fingers. 

With everyone else around, Donghun can only give a somewhat sympathetic look to Junhee, who only shakes his head and mouths an  _ it’s fine _ .

Junhee gives his cotton candy to Byeongkwan- who’s enjoying putting as much into his mouth as possibly and offering Sehyoon a greasy wink too much to be entirely appropriate at a family festival.

In between Donghun and Yuchan now, Junhee threads his arms through Donghun’s, pulls them closer together and begins to babble about rides and winning prizes. Yuchan spares a glance towards Donghun over the top of Junhee’s head, and Donghun can only smile weakly in response. He really didn’t expect to be dragged into a love triangle with his best friend, but Donghun supposes that’s just the Junhee effect.

“Can we do some games?” Yuchan asks as a one-sided question, already on his way over to the brightly lit stalls.

They head towards the hammer machine, the archery- all of which Yuchan wins with ease, handing over plush prizes to Junhee and Donghun, smiling brightly as he does so. It’s hard to deny him when he looks so happy, harder to make fun of the pink stuffed pig in Donghun’s hands when in his other one is Junhee’s hand, the younger man’s head nestled on top of Donghun’s shoulder.

Byeongkwan, Sehyoon and Yuchan, clutching a lifetime’s worth of stuffed animals, head off in the opposite direction to find a bench to sit at. Junhee and Donghun, still hand in hand, Junhee’s hands sickeningly small and soft and smelling suspiciously of scented lotion, decide to go to a small booth, not too far from the seating area, with the promise of hot drinks in the whipping, mid-January winds.

“Isn’t it hard to believe that it’s already a new year?” Junhee comments, squeezing his fingers around Donghun’s tighter. “Nearly three months, already. It feels like yesterday that I came back.”

“Yeah,” Donghun laughs. “Yesterday when you showed up to the rink and fell on your  _ ass _ . Not that you’ve stopped.”

“Hey,” Junhee protests gently, lifts up their linked hands to jab at Donghun in the chest. “I’m trying my best.” 

They’re quiet for a second, Junhee’s head coming to rest once again on Donghun’s shoulder, this time accompanied by a slightly frustrated pout at the slow-moving line. He’s so  _ close _ , and he smells like roses. Fucking roses. Of all things.

The line still doesn’t move, so Junhee and Donghun launch into 21 questions to pass the time. Donghun instantly declines even participating, but Junhee is adamant and Donghun doesn’t want to get into an argument with an angry man-child in public.

Surprisingly, he enjoys himself.

Even as Donghun fumbles for the change once he reaches the front, Junhee inquires whether  _ it’s alive? It wears clothes? Does it have a conscience? Is it cute? Are you lying? It’s me, right? God, you’re so obsessed, hyung.  _ Donghun laughs, precariously pushes Junhee while holding a cardboard tray filled with boiling drinks.

They reach the bench quickly, take sides and carry on playing 21 questions. Like a group of children, Donghun can’t help but think, everyone joins in, Yuchan listing off every object known to man after Junhee’s unhelpful clues. Donghun doesn’t know how much time they pass like that- happy- all five of them in the cold with hot drinks playing a game meant for children.

Soon, the game draws to a close with Junhee’s final guess of  _ The First Lady, _ quickly diminished by Yuchan’s announcement of  _ It’s a parrot, hyung. You weren’t even close. _

“What are we doing now?” Sehyoon asks, clumps of blue sticking to the corners of his mouth. 

“I want to go on the rides… the ones that spin and do all that cool stuff,” Junhee laughs, pointing his finger towards a whirling machine, filled with screaming people.

“Why do you want to torture yourself?” Donghun asks, genuine.

“It’s  _ fun _ ,” he protests.

He drags out the final syllable, loud and whiny, as if that would convince anyone to listen to him.

“I’ll go with you,” Yuchan says.

“We should go, too,” Byeongkwan states, reaching for Sehyoon’s hand. The older man gives him a soft smile in response and  _ god, Donghun is sick of these couples. _

So whilst the kids gather their things, push wallets and phones towards Donghun, he sits perfectly still at his bench. Yuchan skips close behind Junhee, places his hand on the small of his back. 

The line is short, so they join fairly close to the front, as far as Donghun can see from where he’s sat. It’s not like he hasn’t been here before- with university friends and girlfriends and boyfriends and even his niece, at one point. 

He’s just _ been exhausted _ , recently, nothing to do with his sudden lack of friends after last year’s graduating class. On top of that, this place has seemed to reshuffle everything in the half-year he hasn’t visited. That included adding neon lights to every location possible, and adding an obnoxious rotating ride in the middle of the park.

Donghun only raises his head to watch the ride start- slowly pick up speed, lights beginning to flash, people erupting into screams and yelling. He has to resist smiling at the distinctive lower pitched yelling from his friends, that he can hear from across the fifty or so metres separating himself and the machine. 

It seems to go on forever, and when it’s finished it takes more than a few moments for everyone buckled in to stumble out, clutching their heads and sides in agony.

The four return to him, nearly five minutes after the end of the ride. Sehyoon looks dazed, eyes unfocused and glassy; Byeongkwan seems entirely removed from reality as a whole and Yuchan, if Donghun isn’t mistaken, has small clumps of vomit around his mouth and is sitting with his eyes squeezed shut.

Yet, on the contrary, Junhee - still standing - is perfectly hair, hair a little windswept if anything.

It’s almost remarkable how untouched he seems to be, how normal his smile is, after being pelted around on a viciously moving machine. It’s even more impressive when Donghun considers Sehyoon, the most unshakable person he knows, being affected.

“Are you human?” Byeongkwan manages, slightly shaky, after a minute or so of brewing in complete silence.

“Me?” Junhee replies, still innocent, pushing his hair back with his free hand.

“Yeah,” Byeongkwan continues, tone bitter. “You.” 

“I don’t know, it wasn’t that bad-”

“It was that bad. And so much worse,” Yuchan continues. “I think I’m going to have to drop out, I don’t think I can-” 

“Stop being overdramatic,” Donghun says.  _ You’re the one that wanted to go on because of Junhee.  _ “You did this to yourself.”

Junhee giggles a little at that, turns to Donghun with his messy hair and red-tipped cheeks. He’s nuzzled further into his scarf now, eyes shining in the tiring glow, eyebrows slightly raised in Donghun’s direction.

“Do you want to go on the ferris wheel? I heard there was a good view.”

Nothing else has to be said.

While the other three stay, dazed and confused at the picnic table, Junhee and Donghun join the short line already boarding small carriages of the ferris wheel. There are seats for two facing opposite each other, separated by a metal bar which is pulled over their bodies. 

Junhee insists on sitting on the other side so he can see the view from up high better. Donghun obliges, shuffles backwards into the other seat and lets the worker pull a bar over his head, hearing as it clicks softly into place. Junhee wiggles in excitement, moves his head side to side and widens his eyes at Donghun.

As their carriage begins to go up, Donghun notices that it’s cooler, now, further into the night. The moon hangs in the sky, ominous, and Donghun goes so high he feels as if he could almost reach out and touch its calloused surface- run his fingertips along the pale sphere, as if it was no bigger than an apple. 

Junhee leans on the side of carriage, elbow on the metal support, face resting in his palm. He looks out, over the view of the twinkling lights of the city below. It’s pretty.

Despite that, Junhee looks so much more entrancing- lips slightly parted, hair mussed by the same cool breeze. He leans too far over the metal support to be safe, and Donghun stretches out a hand to make sure he doesn’t fall- doesn’t tip the carriage over or hurt himself in his fascination with the view below.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” He breathes, breath turning to mist in the winter evening.

“Mm,” Donghun agrees. “Everything looks so small up here. Nothing matters.” 

“Nothing matters,” Junhee repeats, smiling at Donghun’s words as they leave his lips. 

Up here, the buildings and the city below is small, irrelevant. Even their friends, so far away in the back of Donghun’s mind don’t matter. The only thing is the chill metal of the seats, and Junhee’s eyes sparkling opposite him. All his problems- work, money, the rink - disappear without a thought, become redundant against the dark night. 

“Hyung,” Junhee says, sudden, and turns his head slightly to face Donghun.

“Yeah?”

A beat of silence, filled only by Junhee’s slow blinks and the rattling of the ferris wheel. 

“What’s your biggest regret?”

Donghun grins at that - only temporarily, only because he thought Junhee was going to reveal a secret or ask him something definite. That type of question, asked on the top of a ferris wheel in the dark, was so  _ Junhee  _ Donghun struggled to articulate it.

“You go first.” 

Junhee bites his lip, looks towards Donghun as if in thought. He stays like that for a few moments, still, as the ferris wheel rattles in the wind.

“Leaving.” 

Oh. Maybe this is more serious than Donghun anticipated.

He had expected something half-hearted from Junhee. Maybe an account of something embarrassing he had done as a child. 

“Why?” Donghun asks, mouth suddenly feeling dry.

“I wish- things could’ve stayed the same. I loved being there, the job, and the friends I made, but-” he stops himself, and chews anxiously on his lower lip.

Donghun understands.  _ I love Yuchan more. _

“I get it.”

“What’s yours?”

It’s clear in Donghun’s mind- the one thing he’s regretted longer than anything else, held to his heart as if he could never share it, never let it go. 

“I should’ve-- practised, before that stage.” 

“Your last stage?”

“Yeah.”

“Didn’t you-” Junhee pauses. “Practise before?” 

“Not enough.” 

The look in Junhee’s eyes then is something indescribable. Not quite pity, not quite sympathy, but something softer than Donghun could describe.

“If you had practised, then, I don’t think you would be here,” Junhee whispers, wind stealing his words. “You’d be going around the world.”

“I wouldn’t have fell on the nationals that were going to get me to the olympics. I wouldn’t have embarrassed myself in front of an entire league of athletes, of judges, of the entire country.” 

“You wouldn’t be the same, if you hadn’t,” Junhee says, and smiles as he does so. Donghun finds himself returning it.

“I wouldn’t be here,” Donghun breathes, and leans in slightly. “With you.”

There’s a beat of silence. 

“If you hadn’t taken that job...” he continues. “Maybe you and Yuchan would be dating.”

Junhee laughs, and looks towards Donghun. He looks breathtaking, hair rustled by the wind and eyes alight in the faint illumination from the city. 

“Chan told you?” He inquires.

Donghun shrugs.

Junhee doesn’t reply then, just offers a weak smile towards Donghun as the ferris wheel lurches again, and slowly heads back down to the ground. 

As they head down, Junhee changes the subject- starting to ramble about digimon as they dismount, and reaches for Donghun’s hand as they start to walk. His hand is small, smaller than Donghun had expected. Junhee also runs unusually warm, Donghun finds, as they press against each other squeezing through crowds, Junhee’s grip tight around Donghun.

“Lovebirds are back,” Sehyoon remarks dryly when they return. 

Yuchan breaks the awkwardness with a sharp clearing of his throat.

♢♢

“Theoretically,” Donghun poses, to Byeongkwan. 

“Oh my god,” He replies, voice slurred from exhaustion. “What now.” 

He’s sprawled across the sofa, can in hand, eyes bloodshot from staring into the blue light of the tv. Donghun had tried to turn the light on, at one point, two hours ago, but Byeongkwan in his heartbroken misery of his boyfriend  _ leaving him for Paris once again _ , had refused to cooperate. And to be perfectly honest, Donghun never knew why people came to him for solace and advice- and he didn’t want to jeopardise it- so he had let Byeongkwan cry over Me Before You for the eighth time.

Now, however, Donghun is convinced he needs to do something about it- so he switches off the tv over Byeongkwan’s groaning, and winds up the lights minimally. Byeongkwan brings his legs up to his chest like a disgruntled child, pushes his lips out in an ugly pout as if he was a toddler denied candy.

“Say,” Donghun mumbles, precarious, taking a seat on the end of the sofa where Byeongkwan’s legs are curled up. “Say I had feelings for someone.”

Byeongkwan looks thoroughly unimpressed, and provides no comment.

“And my friend, my best friend, has feelings for them too. But they had feelings for them before me. But, I don’t know if feelings person has feelings for me, but I know they don’t have feelings for my best friend. Actually, they even told me they don’t have feelings for my best friend-” 

“Hyung,” he interrupts.

“What?”

“Is this about Junhee?”

Donghun scans Byeongkwan’s face for any hint of emotion, for any hint of betrayal or shock- but either he’s really good at hiding his emotions or doesn’t care in the slightest. With Byeongkwan, you never know, really. 

Logically, Donghun weighs out the pros and cons of each statement. 

_ Yes, I have feelings for Junhee. _

_ Donghun, you traitor. I hate you. Yuchan deserves better. Why would Junhee have feelings for someone like you? _

_ No, I don’t have feelings for Junhee. _

Donghun can almost see Byeongkwan’s reaction to that one.

_ Oh, really, traitor? You sure? I’ve seen you, you pathetic gay mess. I hate you. Yuchan deserves better. Why would Junhee have feelings for someone like you? _

Wonderful. Both options result in his insecurities coming to light. 

“I’m guessing by the way you zoned out for three minutes that the answer is yes?” Byeongkwan states more than asks, deadpan, eyes half shut. 

Donghun nods, curt.

“You know, Chan took him out on a date after the theme park. They went out to eat. Jun stayed over.” 

Oh. That’s funny. And almost certainly must be a lie, because Yuchan had told him-

“Hyung,” Byeongkwan says, and sits up straight, blinking away sleep. “I think Chan knows, too. You weren’t discreet, the other day--.”

“Oh, look at the time-” Donghun chuckles nervously, and spares a glance at his watch. “My, lasagna- Thanks for the talk, Kwan.” 

With that, he rises to his feet sharply, and looks down at his small companion, made even smaller by his foetal position on the cracked leather sofa. Donghun pats the side of Byeongkwan’s leg, almost in mutual reassure, and shoots him a smile. It comes out disgusting, judging from the way Byeongkwan’s face crinkles in mild horror.

Right. One foot in front of the other. Yuchan will be fine. Jun will be fine. And, most probably, Donghun too- because he doesn’t need pretty boy Junhee to feel validated, he has his best friends and his lasagna and his grandma’s cat-

“Donghun.”

Donghun turns around at the archway of the kitchen, looks back at Byeongkwan’s figure on the sofa. He has a blanket loosely draped around his shoulders, hair askew and looking hunched as he processes reality from his new position after six hours of laying down. Donghun finds himself smiling fondly, even if his heart feels like it’s not in his chest. 

“Chan said that- they kissed.”

That makes everything so much better,  _ thank you, Byeongkwan, for the insight. _

“Let Channie have this,” Byeongkwan says, offering a half-sad smile. “He and Junhee- you know, they’re the type of couple you know are in love. They look like they belong. And, hyung, Chan- he’s, been waiting so long. For this. For Jun. And Jun...” Byeongkwan trails off there, and bites his bottom lip anxiously.

Donghun feels tempted to snap, then, turn around and make a bitter remark about  _ how _ Chan is so sure Junhee reciprocates. But he knows it’s childish, he knows he’s only acting this way because he feels like a highschooler again, caught in a love triangle he can’t do anything about but let play out.

_ So, just let Chan have this one, Donghun. You don’t have to date his boyfriend. _

He gives Byeongkwan another thumbs up, another tight lipped smile, and goes to attend to his still undercooked lasagna.

♢♢

“Have you spoken to Yuchan recently?” Donghun asks, casual, stirring his drink.

He can feel Junhee’s eyes on him from the opposite side of the table, his gaze intent. It’s practically bearing holes into his head, and Donghun has to resist the urge to make eye contact.

“No.”

And that’s the end of that.

♢♢

junhee: today at skating

junhee: can you show me one of your routines

donghun: no

donghun: not enough room

donghun: do you want me to take someone’s head off?

donghun: i’m out of practice, too. i can’t do it anymore.

junhee: i want to see you figure skate. 

junhee: please

donghun: i can’t do it at the rink

junhee: not while it’s open

junhee: you can ask bk for the keys~

donghun: no

♢

“I can’t believe,” Donghun barks out, hushed, fumbling with keys. “That you made me do this.”

Junhee, opposite, claps in joy, giggles his loud giggle as he watches Donghun struggle with keychains and the lock on the door. It was hard enough to get the keys in the first place, having to struggle past Byeongkwan and his judgemental eyes and inquiries, and the lock is even harder to defeat- winking ominously at Donghun in the faint light.

“It’ll be fun!” Junhee exclaims, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He’s holding two pairs of skates between his fingers, face creased into laughter, and Donghun tries not to look towards him as he slams his body into the door repeatedly.

“For god’s sake,” He repeats once more, and throws his entire weight against it- causing the door to swing backwards on its hinges and hit the inside wall.

Donghun takes a step inside and reaches for the lights, flicking them on, watching as the entire rink gleams in newly exposed fluorescent lighting. And, furthermore, in the week Donghun hasn’t been to the rink- the owners evidently decided taking down holiday and new year’s directions was a good idea- only to spring up red and pink hearts, banners and drapes across the building. Junhee claps as he sees them, whooping loudly, only ushered in by Donghun and the door shut carefully behind him.

“What about polishing the rink after we’re done?” Junhee asks, flopping into a nearby seat, provided for people to lace their skates.

“I asked Byeongkwan,” Donghun affirms. “He said they polish it in the morning, so we’re fine.” 

Junhee smiles- bright and catlike, spreading ear to ear. Donghun unintentionally smiles back, even feels like reaching forward and pinching his cheeks, just to emphasise his point. 

He looks cute like this. Messy hair, oversized hoodie that smells vaguely of perfume. It’s ill fitting- too long and broad, a brand Donghun knows Yuchan wears. It’s fine. They’re best friends. They can borrow clothes off of each other.

As much as Donghun would never admit it outloud, hanging out with Junhee feels refreshing. It’s as if no-one is expecting him to be anything but himself. And it’s nice to have a reason to get out of the house, something to look forward to in the mornings.

He smiles at Junhee.  _ This is so pathetic, _ he thinks.

“Come, sit-” Junhee pats the space next to him. “I wanna see you skate.”

“Junhee,” Donghun sighs, taking the seat. “I don’t want you to be disappointed. I’m really rusty. I haven’t done a routine in years.” 

“It doesn’t matter, hyung-” he protests, tying the final knot and then reaching forward to hit Donghun. “I just want to see you in the rink.”

That, at the time, is vaguely reassuring- but as Donghun heads towards the rink on shaky blades, wobbly legs and with a dizzy head, he’s brought back to his competition days. When he had to keep a straight back, head held high, when he had to mount the rink with precision and care, offer a wave to the judges as he skated, waited for his music to begin. 

“Do I just hook this up to the speaker?” Junhee yells.

“Sure,” Donghun yells back. “Just wait a second. When I stop you can start.”

He hasn’t travelled this fast around the rink in a long time. When the children are around, couples struggling to stay upright, he can’t move like this- can’t feel the whir, the scrape of the ice beneath his skates, can’t feel the breath of freshness as he moves along the air, with the air, almost weightless. 

It’s simple, so simple, almost- he tries to ignore how his legs are shaking, how his skates are wobbling. It reminds him a lot of his last time, of the month before he went to college. He has traced this routine to many times, his blades have carved it permanently into his memory. Even if Donghun can’t deliver it, he remembers- he remembers each and every moment to the exact angle, to the looseness of his shoulders and the curve of his arms. Poised, but relaxed. Calm, but not slacking. Simple. So simple.

He crouches, and raises a hand for Junhee to begin the music.

If Donghun is right, Junhee has seen this before. Seen this exact routine. Junhee had reassured him on multiple occasions between death grips that one day he would reach Donghun’s skill level, perfect each routine and commit it to memory. Donghun had just sighed, dragged him up from the ice, told him to learn how to stay on his feet first.

The music swells. Easy. Skate. Turn. Keep going, look at Junhee, and his awed expression at the mechanical whir of ice beneath feet, at going backwards on one foot, and the spins with alternating skates. Easy. So easy. Junhee is watching, only Junhee, and he knows it- but it feels like, simultaneously, the world is watching- not daring to breathe as he moves, as he glides, as he leans forward and lifts one leg out to the side.

He nearly trips. Messy. Not so bad after 10 years. Byeongkwan had made him do tricks, sometimes, for the groups of children when the rink was on the verge of emptiness. It’s the only practice he had, and he couldn’t mess up for the children, so Donghun follows his own footsteps, straightens his back- extends his arm.

Junhee whoops from the sidelines. He’s only warming up. Salchow, turn- switch skates and go backwards. When Junhee whoops again, Donghun offers a wave, lifts a leg as he moves effortlessly across the ice. Smooth beneath his skates. He feels like he’s home, like he’s putting on a show.

One, two, three- another toe loop. Easy. So easy. Junhee is watching in awe now. 

Just a jump, now- simple. Axel. 

“You’re doing so good!” Junhee screams, accentuating with a cheer.

Donghun is eighteen again, suddenly, on the ice with judge’s eyes on him. It’s mid-July, the hottest Seoul has been in a while. People are watching him, eyes entirely focused on his spin, his salchow. The rink is the farthest from this, farthest from anywhere he could be. He can almost feel the cinched waist of his skating costume, and he can hear his mother in the crowd.  _ You’re doing so good! _

Double axel. Donghun falls.

_ Donghun! _

Junhee rushes towards him, slips and falls too, crashes both of their figures together and slides, slowly, backing into the fence. Donghun takes a moment to blink into the distance, dazed, to watch the mirage of an audience disappear before his eyes. He looks down, at the warmth pressed to his side, and finds Junhee looking up at him with a concerned expression.

Donghun can only laugh, and laughs more at Junhee’s widened eyes. He runs a hand through the younger man’s hair, and cups the side of his face. God, the blood really is rushing to his head. 

“Are you okay?” Junhee asks, leaning into Donghun’s touch.

_ Yuchan. Yuchan. Yuchan. _ Donghun takes his hand away from the side of Junhee’s face like he’s been burned.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

They stay there for a second, and Junhee leans back- away from Donghun, to sit with his butt on the ice, knees drawn up to his chest, looking intently at Donghun. His eyes almost shimmer in the light overhead, and it’s disgusting how fond Donghun feels at the sight of his doe eyes, blinking innocently towards him.

It’s not like Donghun didn’t expect it to happen. He fucked it up the first time, ruined the only good thing in his life. He fucked it up now, except now a cute boy (Yuchan’s maybe-boyfriend, but that’s at the back of his mind) is sitting beside him, looking sympathetic and very, very cute. 

“You looked so focused.”

“Until I fell,” Donghun laughs, and scratches sheepishly at the back of his head. 

“That’s not the point, hyung,” Junhee protests, sticking out his bottom lip as he raises his voice. “That was one thing. The rest of it- it was, amazing.” 

“Mm,” Donghun hums thoughtfully. “I know. I’m amazing.”

“Yeah,” Junhee giggles, lifts up his thumb to chew at his nail. “You are.” 

If Donghun was someone else, was anyone else, maybe he’d cup the side of Junhee’s face again, laugh as his eyes widened again. Maybe he would kiss Junhee there, because Junhee is so, so close to him and laughing and smiling and being playful, and Donghun hasn’t had someone so light and wonderful in the longest time. Maybe if Donghun was less of a coward, more selfish, more willing to take a chance, he would kiss Junhee.

But he doesn’t. He stands, offers his hand to Junhee to bring the younger man to his feet too. They clamber off the ice together, hand in hand, Junhee more clinging to Donghun than displaying any realistic human affection.

“You know,” Junhee says, as he tiptoes off the side of the rink. “You could’ve done that jump.

“Oh?” Donghun laughs, reaches out his hands to help Junhee stay standing. “You’re speaking from your four months of ice-skating experience?”

“I mean-” Junhee looks at him, then. “I know you can do it. And I want to see you do it because- you look so happy. When you’re figure skating.  _ Like nothing matters. _ ”

Donghun looks at him for a moment, in awe. 

But he stops himself, lowers his head and dismounts the ice. 

The rink is boarded around by cheap wooden seats where parents sit to watch their children trip and fall. They remove their skates, pad around on the cold floor in their cold socks to come to the benches. They sit, shoulder to shoulder, their heads leaning together, Donghun looking out with a strange nostalgia towards the rink.

“I used to love skating so much,” Donghun chuckles. “It used to be the most important thing in my life.”

Junhee stays silent, but his hand reaches up to squeeze at Donghun’s upper arm comfortingly.

“It was bad for me, I think.”

“How? You were going to go to the olympics. That’s a big thing.”

“Do you think I didn’t know?” Donghun mumbles. “I already gave up my teenage years- my parties, my girlfriend, my friends, all to... skate. And I was ready to give up being an adult too. But, I messed it up.” 

There’s a brief pause, filled by the faint ticking of lights overhead.

“You sound like a traumatised character in some sports movie,” Junhee comments. “My name is Donghun Lee Bolton, and I was raised by the rink. Ice skating is my only motive.” 

“You’re not funny. Also, Troy Bolton was  _ not  _ a figure skater.” 

Junhee giggles again then, filling the echoey hall with his high pitched voice. Donghun feels strangely comforted by it, no matter how sharp and piercing the sound might be, it’s also light- pretty. Everything about Junhee is pretty.

“I wanted to be an idol,” Junhee laughs.

“An idol,” Donghun says in mock-awe, and Junhee groans, shutting his eyes and shaking his head in disgust.

“It seems weird now, but I was a trainee. And when I got kicked from the company for my  _ busted vocal chords,  _ it felt like I lost everything. I was lost. For a long time. I’m guessing.” Junhee nestles further into Donghun’s side. “That’s how you felt, too.”

“Yeah,” Donghun chuckles. “When I lost figure skating, that was it. I was- really, really upset. For a long time. You know, as expected. But I’ve filled that- with, actual things. Good things. People. That I can’t lose.” 

And Donghun swears, he really does, that he doesn’t mean to look over to Junhee in that split second, that he doesn’t mean for their eyes to meet. Because he really doesn’t. Because Junhee is close to him, and smiling so soft, so pretty, and Donghun really wants to kiss the smile off his face but he knows he can’t. He can’t do it to Yuchan.

Yet, he carries on looking at Junhee, their eyes focused on each other, only inches away.

“One of those people is you, Junhee,” he says, quietly, suddenly unaware of what’s overcome him. “You’re a good person for me.” 

Junhee smiles softly, undeniably fond, gaze flickering from Donghun’s eyes down to his mouth.

Just as Donghun’s about to turn, make an awkward joke to play off the moment, Junhee leans forward, presses his lips against Donghun’s.

It’s not as dramatic as Donghun was expecting, but he chokes a little on the sudden inhale he makes when their lips meet. Junhee smirks against it, pulls away for a brief moment before leaning in again, resting the palm of his hand against the top of Donghun’s thigh.

If Junhee hadn’t kissed with his mouth a little open, hadn’t tasted like strawberries and whipped cream, hadn’t smiled against the pressure, Donghun would’ve pulled away. Maybe if he hadn’t put aftershave behind his ears, hadn’t put his hand on Donghun’s shoulder, hadn’t giggled when Donghun kissed him back, Donghun would’ve been more inclined to pull away before Junhee himself. 

“Junhee,” Donghun breathes.

“Donghun,” Junhee mocks, laughing a little, breathless.

“ _ Yuchan _ .”

Junhee tilts his head curiously at Donghun, furrows his eyebrows together. 

“What?”

“You- you have feelings for him.”

Junhee looks down at his hands then, lets his face split into an awkward smile. He picks at the skin around his nails, flips over his hands to expose his palms, which he curves out like a stretching cat. 

“Is this because of the ferris wheel thing? I-” 

“He has feelings for you.”

“And I’ve told him,” Junhee says, softly. “That I don’t return them.”

A beat of silence, and Donghun chews on his bottom lip anxiously.

“He kissed you,” Donghun blurts out, and immediately regrets the change in Junhee’s expression.

“We’re not fifteen,” Junhee laughs, cocking an eyebrow. “People have feelings for each other. Some people don’t. Some people kiss and some people don’t want to.”

“He waited for you,” Donghun protests.

“Are you saying I have to be with him because he  _ waited? _ ” 

Nope, definitely  _ not  _ what Donghun is saying- and he doesn’t know how to get the words out right with Junhee looking at him like he’s in disgust-awe of everything Donghun had just said. It’s difficult to articulate,  _ no, that’s not what I meant, I meant that I don’t want to hurt his feelings and I want your reassurance and I’m sorry I made you feel guilty please come back _ .

“No- I-”

Donghun swallows.

“I’m sorry?” 

“Byeongkwan-- told me-- you, stayed over,”

_ Fuck. That was the worst thing to say. Junhee’s mouth curls into a frown. _

“So you’re talking to everyone but me about how I feel?”

“No, that’s not--”  _ I didn’t want to ask you in case you didn’t return the feelings I feel. Which are romantic. Not platonic at all. I want to kiss you. Please come back. _

There’s a moment of silence where the both of them are still.

Junhee stands, chuckles awkwardly as he brushes off his jeans. He has the same expression as before. Donghun hasn’t solved anything. Granted, he hadn’t really said much either.

“It’s fine, just-” he picks up his phone, pretends to glance at his texts. “Yeah, I need to go.”

Donghun watches him leave, watches Junhee shuffle back into his shoes and shut the door behind him with an echoing  _ bang _ .

♢♢

yuchan: 11am right?

donghun: yeah

donghun: see you there

♢

The sun is bright outside, and the cafe moderately warm for this time of the year. Donghun holds a mug of hot chocolate between his hands, taps his fingernails anxiously against the ceramic as he looks towards the entrance. It swings open and closes again every few minutes, new customers entering and leaving as if without a thought. 

10:59. Donghun is unsure why he feels so unsettled right down to his bones. He would listen to Yuchan, above everything else, even if Junhee and his stupid laugh was the best thing that had happened to him in a while. Yuchan was his best friend, and no matter how far apart they were- it was his priority. Yuchan, then Junhee. And Yuchan was in love with Junhee. So, with what Donghun was expecting, he was almost mentally reciting an apology text to Junhee.

Yuchan’s never punctual. He shouldn’t be so anxious about time ticking over to 11:01, yet he bites his bottom lip harder, looks down into the swirls of milk and chocolate and wonders about the time he spent nearly 10,000won on Junhee’s overpriced hot chocolate and danish pastry. 

“Hyung.”

Donghun looks up, and immediately shoots out of his seat. His nerves seem to be firing too fast for him to keep record- and Yuchan’s hands extended out with his half-moon eyesmile doesn’t do anything to dispell it.

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” Donghun comments. 

Wow, this is some serious deja vu.

“Work,” Yuchan laughs, drums his fingers against the table. He looks calm. A lot calmer than Donghun, at least, although it isn’t a high bar to set by any means. “I want to talk to you more, hyung, to all of you, but I don’t have any time.”

“It’s fine, Chan,” Donghun reassures.  _ I’ve just been kissing the love of your life in the meantime.  _

Fuck.

“How are you?” He winces as soon as the words leave his mouth, and Chan chuckles at them, staring down into the polish of the black table they’re sat at. “Apart from being busy.”

“Good, I guess,” Yuchan says, smiles a little as he turns his head towards the window. “I mean, I’ve never been more tired. I think I slept three hours last night. Maximum.” 

Instinctively, Donghun launches into a parental spiel about how growing children need their sleep, punctuated by several stabs towards the table with his pointer finger. Yuchan only laughs at him, and tentatively steals his drink to take a sip, all while keeping his eyebrows raised and eyes widened in Donghun’s direction.

He does look tired. And Donghun really, really doesn’t want to drop this on him. Not now. Not ever. He should’ve just  _ let Yuchan have this, _ like Byeongkwan had suggested. It was easier when Donghun didn’t know the feelings were reciprocated. 

Now, Yuchan’s in front of him, sipping Donghun’s overpriced hot chocolate that he only bought on sap-factor because he also bought it for Yuchan’s kind-of-ex two weeks ago after skating when he was sad and when Donghun thought  _ oh, no, I think I actually might have serious non-platonic non-entirely-shallow feelings for this guy. _

Needless to say, Yuchan sipping on the drink makes Donghun want to cry. Not in an overwhelmed, or particularly sad way- but only because he really, really doesn’t want to say what he’s about to say.

“Junhee kissed me.”

Yuchan sets down his- Junhee’s- Donghun’s drink down on the table, and watches him with a carefully.

“I know,” he says, not entirely light but not entirely devastated either. It’s a welcome surprise.

“What.” Donghun can only reply, deadpan.

“He told me,” Yuchan takes another sip of the drink between speaking, and Donghun could die of the wait. “He said that you felt bad because of me. Which was kind of awkward, at first, but we sorted it out.” 

Donghun is semi-thankful the two of them can communicate like normal adults, and ashamed that he had lost his own voice at the rink when he had the chance to do the same.

“Sorted it out?” 

“We ate takeaway on the floor and talked for a really long time,” he carries on, smiling. “And he said he didn’t have the same feelings for me. Not anymore, anyways. I don’t know. I feel like I should be sadder than I am?” 

Donghun can’t reply, only give a curt nod because there’s a very dull and persistent buzzing in his head. 

“He told me, and I’m upset, obviously, but only a little. I’m just happy he can find someone else. And, I don’t know, it’s weird- I want him to be happy and-” Yuchan pauses, and looks beadily at Donghun. “If that someone is you. I can’t stop you from being together. I don’t want to stop you being together.”

As if his body is mimicking Yuchan’s words, Donghun feels a total lack of emotion. A numbness, almost. But it’s only because he can’t register it now- not here- because he has to keep it bottled in public, in front of Yuchan who’s getting over Junhee, in front of the entire world. He keeps the warm, soft feeling that he can’t fully identify bottled in his chest, tries to prevent it trickling through his veins to his fingertips, to his lungs, because if it does he thinks he might just start yelling.

“The two of you deserve to be happy.”

Donghun feels a dull stab then. Yuchan is smiling at him, obviously noting his friend’s shock and awe, and still offering his happiness. Not offering. Denying himself his happiness. On behalf of Donghun, and Junhee. For them both to be happy.

Standing up suddenly, Donghun places both his hands on Yuchan’s shoulders. Carefully, all whilst ignoring the stares of customers at the clattering of cutlery, he leans forward, so he’s right in front of Yuchan’s face.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, hyung,” Yuchan chuckles, and sports a grin that looks a lot more forced and a lot less bright.

♢♢

  
  
  


Donghun has to physically restrain himself from going straight to Junhee and professing his love after leaving that coffee shop. He wants to do this perfectly, knows he has to do this perfectly. 

To do that, he has to stay away from Junhee for a while. Okay, it’s only a few days- but it sure feels like a while when he stays away from the ice rink during the day, stays away from Junhee’s texts and Byeongkwan’s inquiries with why he keeps leaving for hours during the day. 

He has to do this perfectly.

So, Donghun texts Junhee with a strange address and an ominous caption attached, and lets himself bask in the knowledge that the younger man is curious enough to follow his guts. Of course, he lets some anxiety bubble into his throat when Junhee doesn’t show for the first few minutes, but he rests assured that he’ll come.

At 7:08, the doors to the rink swing open and a very confused Junhee enters.

“What is this?” He asks.

Donghun approaches him carefully, phone in hand, offering a cautious smile. Junhee looks beautiful, the stray snowflakes from outside sitting amongst his black hair as if they belonged, his scarf pulled up to just beneath his newly reddened nose. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Donghun feels guilty for making the other man travel so far.

“It’s the rink where I skated for the first time,” Donghun says, simply, and passes over his phone to Junhee. “You’ll play the music.”

Junhee looks dubiously down at the phone in his hand. Half a smile creeps up the side of Junhee’s face, and he shakes his head.

“You can just apologise and tell me how you feel now, Donghun-”

Donghun places a hand over Junhee’s, phone pressed between both their palms. Junhee looks up at him, lips slightly parted- pink from the cold. 

“Music,” Donghun says, breathless, and Junhee only nods in response.

He clambers back over to the ice, skates hitting the familiar surface and immediately launching around the rink one-two-three times, glancing towards Junhee and seeing his satisfied smile. His heart is like a drumbeat in his chest, a constant bass to his movements, not unlike what he had the first time he performed this in front of an audience -- but Donghun is cool, is confident and assured this time around. He can do this, this time. He has to.

Cautious to remain smooth with his movements, he crouches on the ice, raises a hand for Junhee to start the music. 

Then he rises to his feet, yells:

“I didn’t mean to hurt you! But I didn’t want to hurt Yuchan either! I hope you understand!” 

Junhee giggles, his voice echoing in the empty rink. He covers the side of his face with his free hand, embarrassed at the volume of Donghun’s words

“I really like you, Park Junhee! You said you liked watching me do my routine, you said I inspired you! You inspire me too! This is just how much!” 

He can see Junhee mouthing an  _ oh my god _ into his palm, shaking his head simultaneously.

The music swells. Easy. Skate. Turn. Junhee is saying something, but Donghun can’t hear it over the sound of the ice whizzing beneath his feet, the wind whipping around his ears. But Junhee is smiling, is looking relieved and happy and embarrassed all at once, eyes sparkling in the fluorescent lights overhead. 

Donghun goes backwards on one foot, and spins with alternating skates. Easy. So easy. 

Junhee is watching, only Junhee, and he knows it. It feels like it. No pressure, no weight on his shoulders- just the boy who he has feelings for, who changed so much for Donghun in the few months they’ve known each other. He glides, leans forward and lifts one leg out to the side.

Donghun is perfect with his technique. He adds flourishes that weren’t there in the original performance, spins and jumps all accentuated by Junhee giggling and cheering from the side. Donghun smiles to himself.  _ Not so bad after 10 years. _ He straightens his back- extends his arm.

Turning to face Junhee, Donghun offers a wave, smiling obnoxiously with all his teeth out. He lifts a leg as he moves effortlessly across the ice. Smooth beneath his skates. He feels like he’s home, like he’s finally flying- finally free. The sound of ice and feeling of poised perfection, attended only by who he wants to watch him.

One, two, three- jump. Easy. So easy. 

Here’s the jump, now- simple. Double axel. 

“I love you!” Junhee screams.

Donghun is eighteen again- wait.  _ That’s different. _

Double axel. 

He lands perfectly. The ice carries on moving beneath him and Donghun can do nothing but carry on, head ringing with the weight of the words Junhee had provided. 

Spin. Jump. He’s doing it from memory now, from the traces of his muscles from so many years ago. Triple axel. He surprises himself by landing that one, smiling towards Junhee as he does so, arms extended outwards- bright and cheerful. Junhee claps and whoops, loud from where he’s standing- voice ringing throughout the entire rink.

Donghun can hear the music coming to a close, and he does so by doing his final salchow, his final turn, straightening his back, extending his arms. The final note chimes out, and Donghun had planned to bow his head, to look towards the ice- but instead finds himself drawn towards Junhee- to his bright smile and clapping in the spectators area. 

The music is finished, and Junhee is clapping, saying something Donghun can’t hear and thinks it mostly irrelevant. It’s all mindless praise. He knows Junhee, by now, knows him after nearly half a year of meeting every week and seeing him fall on his ass every Tuesday, seeing him in Yuchan’s old hoodies and on the floor of an ice rink and on the top of a ferris wheel, seeing him at the party for the first time and thinking- oh.  _ Maybe this is the chance I need, that I want, that I deserve- maybe I can give him what he deserves. _

Off the ice. Donghun is moving towards Junhee, the younger man’s hands are stilled but pulled together in a clapping motion.

Donghun moves, comes towards Junhee so they’re only inches away. He smiles at that, catlike, and who would Donghun be if he didn’t do what he did then, if he didn’t kiss Junhee like they had been separated for so long. (In reality, it was barely a week.)

Junhee’s hands hook around his shoulders, pull him down and closer until they back up against a seat in the audience area. 

They pull apart to breathe, Donghun resting his forehead against Junhee’s.

“God, you’re sweaty.”

Donghun laughs at that. He would be tempted to hit Junhee, but he feels too soft for that, too romantic and mushy to think of anything other than keeping on kissing.

“You said you loved me.” 

They both look at each other, Junhee’s eyes scanning either of Donghun’s, lips pressed together as if in thought. He looks cute, like this.

“You don’t have to say it yet, only when you’re-”

“I love you too.” 

Then Junhee smiles, and Donghun kisses him again- and again, until Junhee is sitting on the audience seat and laughing into the kiss, trying to break away to catch his breath. 

“You make everything better,” Donghun mumbles, between kisses. 

“Mmm,” Junhee hums in response.

Donghun breaks away. He takes Junhee’s hands, careful, off his shoulders, holds them between his own, brings them both to his lips. 

“You make me- so happy, Junhee,” he laughs, breathless, panting. “I want to make you happy too.”

“You already do,” Junhee leans against Donghun again, presses their foreheads together, closes his eyes. “I was- so alone, and you made me so happy. You  _ make  _ me happy.” 

Donghun kisses Junhee again.

“We’re disgusting,” he comments.

“I know,” Junhee replies, running his knuckle against Donghun’s cheekbone, head tilted to the side, looking fondly. “This is horrifying.”

Donghun giggles, like a child- like Junhee, and leans back into him again. 

“Your performance was so good,” Junhee mumbles, and his face splits into a grin. “South Korea’s very own Lee Donghun.”

And, leaving Junhee’s lips, it sounds  _ right _ .

**Author's Note:**

> if you enjoyed, plz don't hesitate to leave a kudos and comment bc i love reading and replying hehe <3
> 
> i am currently inactive on my stan account, and for now i think this might be my last fic i'll be putting out for a while... i have a lot of exams coming up which will keep me busy, but i will try my best to continue to support a.c.e in whatever they do <3 i hope everyone had happy holidays and keep safe over valentines too :]


End file.
